Draco Dormiens
by Juliet'sEmoPhase
Summary: Prince Draco has been kidnapped by the evil Dark Lord and is now being held captive by a fearsome dragon. Does Harry, the son of a lowly potter, have what it take to save him? Magical Medieval AU, no smut, birthday present!


Author's Note 14-08-15: A little birthday present for Nayan (aka drarryismylife101) that got a bit out of hand. I don't know how it's 5,000 words long, but I'm not sorry lol. Also for the lovely Rebecca (i-am-drarry-locked), Daphne (accio-malfoy) and Adelaide (innocentlittledarkangel), who missed their birthdays previously off the list.

I've had this little dragon idea running around my head for a couple of months, but only just ironed out the creases enough to commit to paper. Also…I know this is not the first story to be called "Draco Dormiens", but it was just too perfect to ignore. This has nothing to do with Cassandra Clare, or indeed any other fic I'm sure that's out there with the same name.

Anyway – enjoy! xJx

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Draco Dormiens

Harry was starting to believe he had made a grave error. He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and looked to his fellow travellers as they crested the mountain top. These were men of the sword, trained by great masters and proven on the battlefield. These were knights and mercenaries and warriors.

He was just a potter's son with a borrowed blade and a notion that had seemed plausible as he'd drifted off to sleep, but now, in the harsh light of the sun, Harry was starting to suspect he was stark raving mad.

Desperate times, he reasoned as the dozen or so men navigated the dead and rocky terrain, called for desperate measures. Otherwise a lowly peasant such as himself would never have been allowed to join company with such an esteemed crowd, a fact he was reminded of every few minutes.

"Oi!" a brute of a man clad in shining steel called out to him. His name was Goyle and the Claymore hanging from his back was almost as tall as he was. "You there boy! My steed requires water, give me your skin!"

"Mine has terrible fleas!" crowed his cohort, a man named Crabbe, looming from his beastly ride. "You should be used to picking them out!"

A taller man of more sophistication turned and sneered at the two sell-swords. "Leave the peasant be," instructed Flint. "The dragon will soon make short work of him, and then there will be more of the reward to divide between us."

Several of the other riders shared nervous looks, and Harry didn't blame them. Not only did they have the prospect of a fire-breathing dragon upon them, there was a very real possibility that these three would kill anyone the creature did not devour if they stood between them and the treasure at hand.

Harry slowed his horse a little and let the others plough on ahead, smirking triumphantly. He did not wish to engage in their petty taunts though, preferring to steady his own mind as the grand cave awning came slowly into view. Let them tousle, let them shout and gloat and spit down upon him, he cared not. He had a singular task and he would not be deterred from it.

For many years, all had been well in the kingdom of Slytherin. King Lucius was not a warm man, but he was fair, and he ruled his prosperous lands with his kind and beautiful wife Narcissa by his side. In the same year young Harry found himself brought into the world, the kingdom was blessed with a healthy baby itself, a prince by the name of Draco, and all the peoples rejoiced.

Living in the shadow of the castle's keep, Harry had grown alongside Prince Draco, often catching glimpses of him as he walked the parapets, or on rare occasions, took his escort into the town itself to visit the locals. Harry had never tried to approach the young royal as many had, content to gaze from a far at his pale face and white blond hair, his sharp cheeks and eager smile. Harry's mother had teased him over girls in the village, but to him, there was none so beautiful as the heir Prince Draco.

His eighteenth birthday had heralded a night of celebrations for all, and Harry had cheered with his fellows to see the boy turn man, ready to take on his father's duties whenever the king saw fit.

But the merriment had ended in disaster.

A Dark Lord had risen from the south, demanding fealty from all the lords, earls, and even the king himself. The noble house of Malfoy would not kneel though, and Lord Voldemort had been most displeased. He had sworn his vengeance, but King Lucius had his own faithful sorcerers that he trusted to keep him and his people safe.

It had not been enough.

Before his birthday night was through, Prince Draco had been stolen away, with the promise that he would only be returned once the kingdom belonged to the Dark Lord. Even in their grief, King Lucius and Queen Narcissa would not bow, unwilling to leave their subjects to the mercy of such a villain. That did not stop them however, promising half the castle's riches to whomever bested the Dark Lord and returned their son home to them.

It was soon learned that the prince was being held in a great cave, sat atop the mountain that marked the kingdom's border with Harry's parent's land, the mighty realm of Gryffindor. Men from all four corners of the world, even so far as sunny Hufflepuff and freezing Ravenclaw, braved the mountain in search of the heir of Slytherin, but unfortunately, there was a little more than harsh terrain between them and Prince Draco.

A dragon, as large as the castle keep itself, stood between the knights and their prize. Such a beast had not been seen in any kingdom for a century at least, and no one knew from whence it came, but the demon was now almost certainly here to stay. Half the warriors who dared enter its abode were never heard from again, and those other half lucky enough to re-emerge often did so with charred skin and fewer limbs than when they first went in.

But still, the volunteers came, even though the king and queen's hopes dwindled. It was firmly believed that the prince still lived, but as the land's best men threw themselves forward, only to fall, it became hard to fathom Prince Draco ever returning home.

And so Harry had celebrated his next three birthdays alone. His own festivities normally came several weeks after the prince's, but what had been a season of joviality for the townsfolk had now become one of sombre mourning, and Harry had held the loss of the beautiful prince heavy in his heart.

Whenever the call had been rallied for brave men to try their luck against the dragon of the mountain, Harry's head had risen sharply. But he was nobody, a lowly potter, without any skill other than that he had learnt at his father's wheel. But all that changed when his godfather had needed aid at his family's farm.

The Blacks weren't wealthy by any means, but they owned good land, much livestock, and even a small metal works yard. Harry had learned all he could of the working of the estate and its animals, and then, finally, picked up one of the old discarded swords from the cluttered workshop.

"Teach me," he had begged his godfather Sirius.

"You'll have your own eye out," Sirius had snapped, trying to reclaim the blade. "And then your mother with take mine as penance."

But Harry had persisted, demanding to be taught all Sirius knew, until, desperate for some peace, his godfather had relented and began his instruction in earnest.

The next time the call came for men, Harry was by no means an expert, but he knew enough to join the sell-swords passing through from lands afar, to offer a fresh pair of boots in the saddle, one more name to give the king and queen hope that _this_ time, surely, their son would be returned to them.

His parents had begged him not to go, and the other riders and curled their lips, but Harry knew he had to face the dragon, he had to try and bring the prince back home. He couldn't face another birthday without knowing the prince had had his too.

And so it was, in the summer that would bring his and Draco's twenty first year, Harry and his old horse Bucky made the final push up the mountain side to the beast's lair, hoping to find the prince held captive deep in its rocky belly.

The knights and mercenaries jostled up ahead, all eager to have the first chance to vanquish the creature, and Harry held back still, hoping from his horse and tethering it to a tree a couple of dozen feet from the dragon's sweltering home. The lands all around this area were plagued with scorch marks from the beast's exertions from the cave, when human flesh had been scarce, so instead it had slaked its hunger with sheep and cattle from the fields below.

As dire was the need to rescue the prince, the people of the village would not survive much longer either if these attacks were not soon stopped, not if all their meat was taken from them, and their businesses destroyed.

Harry mused on the last attacked to his hometown, the one just before the sell-swords called for arms, and went over his plan again and again as he made him and his horse comfortable.

Crabbe and Goyle jeered at him. "You come all this way for a nap, boy?" the larger of the two asked as he sharpened his longsword.

"A potter's son has no business being here," sniped one of the other, more elabourately dressed knights with distain. "You are no match for the beast."

Harry smiled and leant back against the tree he had secured Bucky to, hands above his head. "We shall see," he said pleasantly.

The well dressed knight was the first one in. After a few minutes, the screams and roars began to emanate from the mouth of the cave, until soon, all was silent again. No one emerged from inside the mountain, and the men shared anxious, determined looks with each other, but none amongst them would be swayed.

Some went in bellowing, some with silence and stealth. Some ran or crawled their way back into the sunshine, and some would never see it again. Harry ground his teeth against each loss, but these men were not his kin, they were not pleasant or kind, they were brutal and selfish. After so many years, it was unfortunate that the prince was only left with such men, who cared simply for the reward his salvation promised, and not the man himself.

And so Harry continued to wait.

Once bested, the knights who survived would limp back to their steeds and head sheepishly home again, no doubt visiting the town's thinly stretched apothecary on their way in search of salves for their burns. As twilight encroached, only the trio of sell-swords remained as well as Harry. Their weapons sufficiently sharpened, and their competition (as they saw it) already thwarted, Crabbe, Goyle and Flint began their determined onslaught into the cave, without so much as a backwards glance at Harry.

Harry yawned and raised his arms above his head, feeling his limbs pop and crack pleasantly. Of all his fellow riders, he had least sympathy for these nefarious blaggards, but he still winced as the cries and shrieks began. There were others he would have wished escape on more, but after several intense minutes of combat, he still couldn't bring himself to be unhappy when the three men stumbled out again, mostly intact, although very singed and bloody.

"No luck?" Harry asked innocently though as the men scared their horses as they scrambled for their water skins.

"Hurry up and die boy," Flint growled, tipping water over his head then down his gullet.

Harry just shifted on the ground to find more comfort, and began munching on a roll of bread his mother had given him for the journey. "Not yet," he said confidently.

To his annoyance, the trio stayed skulking around the cave entrance. Harry suspected they were hoping to soothe their wounded pride by watching him burn the moment he set foot into the beast's lair, so he did his best to ignore them and let night fall quietly around him.

Judging the time to finally be right, Harry stood and stretched out his legs and back, groaning pleasantly as his body righted itself. "Gentlemen," he said with a nod, before walking calmly into the cave.

The heat struck him like a wall of bricks, but Harry had been prepared and was now stripped down to only his tunic, all gear left with his travelling cloak, too cumbersome to be needed now. His sword was cautiously raised, heavy in his hand, and his eyes flitted to every shadow, every crevice of the rock face, straining for signs of movement.

His first clue was the hot breath that lifted his clothes and hair, and the growl that wafted on after them.

Harry was well into the cave now, thirty or forty feet from the entrance in a grand cavern. The edges of the space were only barely visible, little flickers of light coming from the dying sunshine, and then, as the creature rose, the glowing embers of its nostrils.

But Harry gave it no chance to attack. As soon as he was able to discern what was living flesh and what was stone, he searched above the illuminated mouth for the eyes, and locked his own with the beast's.

"Hey!" he shouted, his shoulders back and his voice unfazed despite the weakness in his knees. "Demon!"

He made a good show of throwing the sword, the sword Sirius had given him, had trained him with in the hopes it might save his life, into the dusty ground several feet from where he stood.

The dragon blinked, and Harry could see its dark eyes narrow. "That's it," he said, bringing both his hands up in front of him as the dragon lumbered forward a step, coming close enough that Harry became pretty certain that if this didn't work, he was going to be swallowed whole, in just one bite. "I am not your enemy."

Sirius had all kinds of animals on the farm, including a collection of rather rowdy dogs. Some people were afraid of them, but ever since he had been a small child Harry had been drawn to the pack, knowing just how to quiet them. Strong eyes, strong hands, strong words, Harry knew them all. If a stallion threatened to buck, to find its wild ways again, Harry was the one Sirius trusted to calm the beast down. If the cattle were moping, Harry knew how to stir their spirits. Even the mice listened when Harry the potter's son told them to flee.

And now here he was, standing before the biggest and meanest creature in the land, hoping it might just listen to him the way its smaller brethren did. "Good boy," Harry said softly taking a tentative step closer, not daring to even blink. "Good boy."

The dragon though was no fool; the other men had all had sharp swords after all, and twitched suddenly as he gave Harry a mighty snarl.

"HEY!" Harry barked back. "Ah! AH! No, that's not the way we do things." He splayed his fingers and raised his palms higher. "Now I know you do not wish me harm, just as I wish you no harm in return." He jerked his head back towards the mouth of the cave, but kept his eyes on the large black ones above him. "I'm not like them, I promise," he told the beast. "Shh, it's okay."

The dragon twisted it's head on its long, snake-like neck, regarding Harry with interest.

"That's it," he breathed out. "Good boy. I bet not many people have tried talking to you, have they?"

The dragon sniffed, and straightened its head again. Its lips were slightly parted, so Harry was still all too aware of the long, pointed teeth hidden within, but he hadn't found himself eaten so far, and he rallied his spirits.

"I'm looking for the prince," Harry said.

Immediately, the dragon roared, the gust forcing Harry to stumble backwards several steps as fire glowed at the back of the creature's throat.

"Stop, STOP!" he commanded, throwing his hands up again, but making no attempt to reach for his sword. "He is not yours to keep. I simply wish to take him home and leave you in peace."

The dragon lowered its head and glared at Harry, who held his chin up high in defiance.

"Though," he added. "If you could broaden out your hunting grounds, I'm sure the people of my town would be most grateful for the increase in mutton and lamb."

The dragon snorted again. It almost sounded like a laugh. Its tail swished behind it, and Harry tried to work out the colour of its scales in the fading light. It was dark to say the least, perhaps black or stormy grey? He didn't get long to ponder though, as the dragon crouched down, bringing its head closer to Harry's level.

"That's it," Harry whispered. "Good boy, nice and slow."

He didn't know if he should try and get around the dragon, but then he decided he should probably talk to it some more. He'd never tried to plicate anything larger than a horse in the past, and even then there had been times when he had received a kick to the chest for his troubles. This beast had far worse to offer than wayward hooves though.

"Good boy," he repeated keeping his words simple. Too much talk confused an animal (and indeed, some men for that matter). He would keep his actions strong and his tongue thrifty if he was to have any hope of calming the monster. He took another step, wishing to soothe the dragon before attempting to bypass it. "That's it, shhh."

He was tempted to strain to try and see where the rest of the cavern lead, but he knew better than to take his eyes away from his charge. So he would just be patient, like he had been this past day, these past few years as well. "Good boy."

He advanced slowly. The beast twitched and swiped its tail, but gradually it hunkered down, never moving its eyes from Harry either. He could feel his heart thumping hard against his chest, and Harry feared the beast could surely hear it, but he didn't let that slow him as he stepped closer once more.

The dragon seemed almost curious as Harry reached out his hands towards the end of its snout, closing the gap between them. "That's it, nice and easy," he said. "Good boy."

Eventually, his fingers touched scales, and Harry gasped in surprise. The creature was warm under his hands, and with the contact it let out a rumble from deep in its throat. It was almost like a sound of contentment, and Harry had to fight against his frayed nerves to stop the mirth from bubbling out his own mouth at the idea of a dragon purring like a kitten.

The dragon though leaned into his touch, just like a pet seeking affection, and Harry stared down in wonder. This beast had eaten many men this afternoon, and yet here it was, within minutes of Harry's care, drowsy with submission.

"Good boy," said Harry once more, stroking the smooth scales under his skin. "Good boy."

It all happened so fast.

A storm of purple smoke swirled into life as great cracks of thunder and lightning boomed against the cave walls. Harry was thrown several feet backwards, and scrambled to his feet urgently to see what manner of spell was encompassing the dragon. It was no longer visible behind the angry clouds, and sparks of light kept Harry from coming any closer. He felt a pang for the dragon – had he broken the spell, was it vanishing into existence as quickly as he suspected it had come? It couldn't have been real then, but still, it was still a creature, just like his godfather's farm animals.

The wind tore at his clothes as the spell continued to roar, and gradually, the purple smoke diminished, the tornado churning itself smaller and smaller, until…

…until there was no dragon left at all. Only a young man dressed in fine clothes, swaying on his feet and blinking his eyes in disbelief.

"Prince _Draco!"_ Harry cried, rushing to his aid as the royal's legs threatened to give out entirely. "The dragon was _you?"_

The prince laughed, and Harry couldn't seem to stop the blood pounding in his ears. "Observant _and_ kind," Prince Draco chuckled weakly. "No wonder it was you."

"Was me…what?" Harry asked.

Prince Draco coughed, but altogether looked very happy. "To break the curse."

The prince took a deep breath, then steadied his legs to take his own weight, so Harry let him. "My apologies," he said, suddenly flustered. "I should not have touched you, it is not appropriate-"

But Draco's laugh cut him short. "My dear fellow," he said warmly. "I have spent these last, lonely years as a beast fresh from hell. My mind has been muddled, my hunger never ending. And you have saved me from such misery, only to catch me when I threaten to fall once more." He grasped Harry by the shoulder, and he felt himself flush. "Your rewards shall be many."

Harry felt himself go cold. "I-" he stammered. "I do not seek any reward my prince," he said, sincerity pouring from his words.

Prince Draco let go to rub his face and drag his fingers through his fine, blond hair, shaking it out with a happy sigh. "Surely my parents offered a great reward for my safe return?" he said with the easy knowledge of someone who is both loved and very wealthy.

Harry nodded. "Of course," he affirmed. "But that is not why I am here, I will take no riches my lord."

Prince Draco, although tired, held liveliness in his now grey eyes. Harry had never been close enough to see his eyes before, and now, now they danced. "Oh?" he said. "Why then?"

"To right a wrong," Harry said automatically. "To end a terror that has blighted this good kingdom for too long." He swallowed. "To reunited a grieving family."

Prince Draco turned his head, much like the curious dragon had done. "You are singular," he said to Harry. "Did you know kindness was the only way to break the curse?" He laughed bitterly, and Harry was reminded suddenly that they were just two young men stood in the depths of a cavern. He, and the prince, the heir of all the realm. He tried not to feel nervous, unworthy, and remind himself instead that he had just achieved the kind of greatness he had only previously dreamed of.

"No," he replied honestly. "I merely thought all other, violent, options had been exhausted, and a new approach was needed."

Prince Draco placed both his hands firmly either side of his shoulders. "May I know the name of my valiant hero?" he asked.

Harry did his best to stand up straight. "Harry," he said simply. "My father is the potter of the town below the castle – your castle."

Harry knew the prince would surely falter at being rescued by such a lowly creature, but instead his smile broadened. "Then if you shall not take riches from my family," he said, squeezing his fingers into Harry's flesh. "You shall accept the sort of kindness you have bestowed upon me." Harry made to protest, but the prince would have none of it. "You shall live at the castle, we shall bestow an honoured position on you, whatever you please. Your family shall want for nothing – do you have a wife, shall she come too?"

Harry struggled to order his swirling mind. "No, no wife," he stuttered a little too quickly.

There was a pause, but it was over so quickly Harry was sure he had imagined it. "Well, we shall find you one of those too, if you should like?" Draco beamed, and began walking Harry towards the entrance of the cave, though in truth his legs remained unstable, and Harry did a lot of the steering once he had picked up his sword again.

"I will be happy with Your Highness' thanks," he said meekly, but the prince jostled him merrily.

"Thanks?" he cried. "Harry, son of the potter, you shall be my esteemed friend, the bravery, wisdom and ingenuity you have displayed in your selfless attempt to save my life needs to be recognised by not just me or my family, but by the entire kingdom. You are a hero."

Harry blushed as they emerged to the disbelieving faces of the trio of sell-swords.

"Ah," Draco said convivially. "Didn't I just try to eat you?"

Harry felt the need to clear up their confusion. "The dragon was the prince," he said, almost sagging under the other man's weight.

The trio's eyes widened. "I'll forgive the attempted regicide this once," said the prince, drunk on his own amusement. "But I would suggest a hasty retreat back to whatever little town you came from, before I take it personally."

Wordlessly, the three men scrambled back up onto their horses, abandoning whatever possessions were not attached, and disappearing into a cloud of their own dust. Harry couldn't help but laugh, but Draco had become sober.

"Did I hurt many good men?" he asked, and Harry paused enough to reason well before he answered.

"I do not believe you did my lord," he said in earnest. "Only those who tried to do you serious harm."

The prince shook his head. "In the belief they were vanquishing a foe to rescue me," he said. "I was not wholly in control-"

Harry took the moment as his turn to squeeze the other man back, forgetting he was a prince, that he was dear to him even though it was most inappropriate. "Your Highness," he urged. "Never once, when you took flight over the lands, did you harm a person of any sort." He looked firmly into those bright grey eyes. "You fed upon animal flesh, like a true man, and defended yourself when others meant you harm." He sighed with affection. "And now, now you can come home. Your parents will no doubt be beside themselves with happiness."

Draco smiled and closed his eyes. "Mother," he said softly. "Father."

Harry allowed him a moment of calm anticipation. "Shall I take you to them?" he asked quietly.

"Please," was all the prince asked in return.

The celebrations lasted for weeks. Whether he liked it or not, Harry was knighted, and, true to Draco's word, moved in with the most esteemed guests of the royal family. His father and mother were granted a new home within the castle walls too, and the Black farm became a principle supplier for the royal kitchens. The Kingdom's lands flourished out of the clutch of the dragon's fiery assaults, and trade between the nations strengthened as their joined forces turned to wiping out the Dark Lord.

Harry found his time being employed on the King's Council immensely satisfying, hardly daring to believe that men of such noble birth were willing to listen to his humble opinions. It wasn't long before the court's chief sorcerer was offering him training in the ways of magic, something Harry took to with relish. He even got to spend time in the stables with his beloved animals, adopting a rambunctious pup he named Padfoot who went everywhere with him once he was grown enough.

But still, he did not find his true happiness until one morning in the rose garden, where his stroll was most happily interrupted by his new friend, the Prince and Heir of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy.

"Harry!" he cried joyfully, seizing him into a heartfelt hug as he was want to do. "I have the most excellent news!"

Harry smiled. "And what is that, Your Highness?"

Draco batted him with his gloves, jewels on his hand glinting in the warm sunlight. "You are not to call me that, I have commanded it so."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It is not proper."

"Propriety has no place with us," he admonished. "Anyway, aren't you eager to share my excitement?"

"Most eager," Harry said playfully.

Draco beamed. "I have presented a name to my father, who I wish to call my betrothed, and he has agreed!"

Harry felt his insides drop to his boots, but he managed a smile nonetheless. "That is wonderful Your Highness."

"Ah!" Prince Draco cried as he tried to shy away. "But don't you want to know who it is?"

Harry swallowed and steeled his composure. "I doubt I shall know the name, but I assure you she will most certainly say yes, and make you the happiest of men."

"But you _do_ know the name," Draco said, the glint not gone from his eye. "For it is a name of reverence in these parts."

Harry managed to smile. "Is her beauty beyond compare?"

"No," Draco said, all seriousness as he took a step forward and held Harry's arm. "But his bravery is."

Harry's eyes widened further than he would have ever fathomed possible. "Your-" he choked out. "Draco?"

But the Prince of Slytherin merely dropped to one knee, taking Harry's hand between his own. "Are you still so certain my intended betrothal with say yes?" he asked, fearful, his eyes raising though golden lashes to seek Harry's own.

"Am I your intended?" Harry asked, not willing to risk any error.

Draco raised his head fully, face full of hope and apprehension. "I have met no man kinder, no man braver." He blushed and lowered his gaze. "No man lovelier. Would you believe me," he asked, daring another look up. "If I said I remember you from my childhood? Always from afar, beautiful, stoic?"

Harry felt like the world might vanish in front of his eyes if he let it, he was drowning in happiness. "You saw me?" he asked. "As I saw you?"

Draco nodded. "I do believe," he said. "I have loved you for a long time indeed."

Harry pulled him to his feet. "Before my _very_ daring rescue?" he asked.

But Draco would not smile as his touched the side of Harry's face, desperation in his expression. "Long before," he said. "I did not know at first, but then I saw your mother's hair, as read as the rising sun, and I knew it to be you." He gripped Harry's hands in his own. "My love, my saviour," he begged. "Take my hand in marriage?"

Harry's smile eclipsed his tears, even his laughter and doubt.

"How could I not?" he answered.

End


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